


but for now it's time to run, time to run

by lizardgills



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, TPP, dont worry it ends happy, eventually at least - Freeform, junoverse, jupeter, peter doesnt show up till the end, theres death but no violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 08:19:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14256804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizardgills/pseuds/lizardgills
Summary: The day had been going fine. Juno didn't expect it to end like this.It was never suppose to end like this.He was going to come home, pick up Ben, and then go hang out with Sasha and Mick for a while, ignoring the dread of what they'd inevitably come home to. Instead, he came home to a locked door, and... he wasn't ready for what was behind it.Juno didn't expect it to end like this.





	but for now it's time to run, time to run

**Author's Note:**

> okay so we were pitching ideas in the discord and i just so happened to think of a really good/angsty prompt idea thing and i mean. it's been like 4 years since i wrote honest to god fanfiction so why the hell not yknow? also this is my first post on here (obviously) so if some of its funky or whatever just. know that im a little rusty alright man  
> my tumblr is lizardyke if you want it ;^0  
> title is from run boy run by woodkid!!!

Juno was walking home on his own, which wasn't particularly abnormal these days. It had been Ben's turn to stay home, keep an eye on Sarah. She'd been getting worse, and as she got worse she was less inclined to go out and do functional adult things, and more inclined to stay home and either mope around all day or cause literal chaos throughout the Steel household. Luckily today was the former. Nonetheless, Juno and Ben had agreed that whenever they needed something, be that food, water, or something else that required leaving the house for, they would take turns watching Sarah while the other left. 

So Juno had left to pick up some snacks to hold them over until they either needed more or Sarah decided to do some proper grocery shopping. Although, they had both given up on that hope. While he was out Juno decided to pick up some comic books too. He only did that when they were on clearance, and today was one of those days. It was their favorite series, too- it'd taken a while for it to go on clearance, so Juno was excited to show it to Ben so they could read it together like they usually did. One of his hands was clutching the bag full of snacks and the comic, while the other was shoved in his pocket, fidgeting with a loose thread. Sarah didn't like it when he visibly stimmed, or when he stimmed at all, for that matter, so he had taken to toying with whatever he could, so long as it was out of sight. Loose change in his pocket, pebbles he had found along the side of the street, smoothed over from how much he had ran his fingers over the surface. It varied by the day. He'd change it out when he got bored. He was getting pretty good at it, and if he was better at distinguishing other people's emotions then he'd say that Sarah was- well, not necessarily proud, but not as easily agitated. Pleased, maybe? Yeah. Sounds about right. Ben was proud, though, that he knew for sure. He told him outright one day when they were lazing about in their shared room. Juno has been playing with his hair, and Ben was mindlessly chattering on about whatever came to mind. Juno liked it when that happened. The topic of that particular moment was Juno and his stimming. Ben just so happened to let it slip that Juno was getting pretty good at hiding it around Sarah. 

"It sucks that you even need to hide it in the first place, I mean," he had said. "But it's pretty neat that you're starting to be able to control it so well, I guess. Makes it even more relieving to be able to let it out, yeah?" he tilted is head, then, thinking better of it, vaguely gestured to how Juno's stocky fingers were currently twirling his curls around themselves. Juno made a small noise of agreement. "I think it's something worth being proud of. Being able to change yourself in a way you shouldn't even have to. I mean, I'm proud of that, at least. Of you. It's pretty cool. Wish I was able to do it, sometimes." he shrugged. Juno stopped playing with his hair abruptly, eyes widening a fraction. He didn't think anyone had been proud of him before. Ben tilted his head back, looking up at Juno, who turned away. It started as a light, butterfly-like feeling in his stomach. Then it was a hum of content, and then a soft squeal through his smiling lips. Ben smiled up at him. "Go on!" he encouraged. And then he was flapping his hands and rocking back and forth.

But that was a while ago, and Juno was almost home now. He was humming to himself contently, mimicking the music that had been playing while he was at the store. Juno looked up from where he had been watching the ground as he walked, and... Sarah's car wasn't there. Huh. Maybe she actually  _ did  _ go to get groceries? He shrugged it off and trudged inside. 

"Ben! I'm back," he called out, putting everything away. "I have a surprise f-..." he stopped in his tracks as he walked into the hallway. The door to the basement was closed. It was usually open. 

She didn't like it when the door was closed.

Cautiously, he walked over, and gave the knob a tug, before realizing it was locked from the outside. Juno unlocked it, his hands trembling, and opened the door. The lights were off, and his breathing was coming out quicker and shallower by the second. He flicked on the lights just inside, and glanced down at the inside of the door, and the wall near it.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to know why there were scratches on it. He was sure, actually. He didn't want to know. He really, really,  _ really  _ did not want to know why there were scratches on the inside of a door that was usually unlocked and open. He needed to know.

Slowly, Juno started down the stairs. The farther down he went, the more he felt the urge to run back up, into his room, and break down. He didn't like coming down here. Just because the door was always- was usually open, didn't mean that Sarah wanted them inside. It was her study, or what used to be, at least. Where she would stay for hours, days on end, doing God-knows-what for God-knows-why, and Juno wasn't sure if he wanted the answer to either of those questions. Last time he was down here he got another scar. As he reached the bottom of the stairs and looked around, Juno realized four things. One, that he was right, he really did  _ not  _ want to know why the door had scratches on it. Two, that he was right again, and he did not want to know why or what she  _ normally   _ did down here, only that he really wanted to leave. Three, no matter how deep the last scar he got down here was, nothing would ever compare to the one he got embedded in his mind as he looked across the room and, realization number four, he found Ben. And the reason he hadn't responded to his calls. 

Because Benzaiten Steel, possibly the only good thing left in Juno's life, was laying still in the far corner of the room with something dark and red and liquid and thick coating the side of his head and there was so much of it and he was so still and Juno couldn't take it anymore. He ran to him. Shook him, tapped his cheek, the clean one, shook him more, called his name. And then he was screaming his name and shaking him more and maybe he was hitting is shoulders and slapping him but he couldn't tell anymore, all he could tell was he was so  _ still  _ and he wasn't responding at all, no matter what Juno did. Juno's vision was blurry and he didn't know if it was nausea or tears or maybe both. This close to him the smell was sickening but he had to  _ know _  and so he put his head on Ben's chest, and he closed his eyes and tried to quiet himself down enough to hear something, anything. There wasn't. Juno kept his head there anyway. 

He didn't know how long he stayed like that, shaking and sobbing and hitting Ben's body and hitting himself, scratching and pulling at his hair because goddammit he should have  _ stayed  _ he could have done something if he had stayed. All he knew was that he heard a car pull up in the driveway. The smell, the sound, everything was too much. He stood and backed away from Benzaiten, turned and ran up the steps. And when the door opened and he saw Sarah Steel standing in the door frame, her face expressionless and a bag of something in both hands, he didn't stop running. He pushed past her and he just kept running. She might have yelled after him, called his name. He didn't care. That voice belonged to nobody, not anymore. Not a mother, not someone who was sick, just the shell of someone who once was, who used to be- and he was still running when he felt a pair of hands grab him by the collar and pull him back.

Of course he fought them. How was he supposed to know that it wasn't her, not Sarah, but Sasha Wire, Mick Mercury on her tail? How was he supposed to know the people he was screaming at and hitting and scratching, that they had heard him yell from the open window of his house, and that they had ran after him after he fled? That they had just managed to catch him before he ran into the street? The answer was simple. He wasn't supposed to know that. Not until a few hours later, when they had managed to get him into Sasha's house, after his meltdown had turned into a shutdown, after they had cleaned the blood off of his hands and the side of his face but not from his mind, never from his mind. Not until he was on her couch, curled up into a ball and trembling, his hands pulling at his hair. Not until Mick had gone on a quiet, nervous rant, recalling what had happened. He was on his left. Sasha was on his right. He faintly heard her ask for permission to put a blanket over him, and he grunted in response. He felt something soft and pleasantly heavy drape over his back. He felt Mick's hands- he knew it was Mick because Mick had short nails that he always bit when he was nervous- he felt his hands gently pull his own out from his hair, and he felt Mick tug his hands towards the blanket. One of Juno’s hands grabbed onto a corner of the blanket, taking it between his fingers and rubbing the tips over the fuzzy material. The other stayed greedily clutched around one of Mick’s hands. If he minded, he didn’t say anything. 

Juno wasn’t sure how long the three of them stayed like that. He knew that eventually he let Sasha rub gentle circles on his back, and eventually he let Mick have his hand back. Mick pushed something else into the now empty hand. Juno wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, but it was small and light and had different functions on it. Eventually his mind made the connection that it was some sort of stim toy. One that had a button or two or four that made a steady click each time it was pushed. He took to pressing it rapidly, taking comfort in the quick succession of clacks. 

It took a while for things to go back to normal after that. ‘Normal’ wasn’t exactly the right word for it. How could things go back to normal after experiencing… that? Routine was more of an appropriate word.

-

Over the years, the routine changed, and Juno had no choice but to change with it. Going from the routine of Oldtown, the constant fear and dread, to the routine of Hyperion City, where Juno had fled to when he couldn’t deal with what was left of home anymore. To the quickly paced routine of whatever job he could hold, which lead up to being an officer at the HCPD. And then that lead to being a private eye, which was, in his opinion, the most absurd routine yet. Slow jobs for years until everything changed- a job with a mask and a thief, and then a kidnapping, and then the thief was back and they were on a train, and then in a tomb, and then in a hotel room full of the smell of foreign cologne and empty promises. And then a bed.

With the thief. Telling a story that he never thought he would tell, not willingly, not sober, at least. But here they were. In Juno’s shabby apartment, curled around each other. Peter Nureyev’s hand was tangled in his hair, massaging gentle patterns into his scalp, the other pressed against his chest. Nureyev was looking into Juno’s eyes. For the first time in years, Juno didn’t look away.

“I must say, that certainly is quite the story, detective. Certainly explains a lot, as well.” he said. Juno grunted in agreement, letting his eyes fall shut. He nudged his head into the crook of Nureyev’s neck.

They were silent, for a bit. 

“Thank you.” Nureyev started.

“For what?” was all Juno could think of saying back.

“For telling me. It was… difficult, I’m sure,” he grunted in agreement before the other continued, “But I’m glad you did. It’s,” he took a breath. “It’s something worth being proud of. I’m proud, at least. Of you, that is.”

And this time, Juno didn’t need to be prompted or to hesitate to let out a happy hum, or to flap his hands.


End file.
